


Happenstance

by pdorkaa



Series: readers [6]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Help, Implied Slash, Like, Morning After, but this is really light, featherlight implied contents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-08-30 00:36:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8511949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pdorkaa/pseuds/pdorkaa
Summary: The streaks of artificial sunlight of Yorktown fall across your face, and you groan as you try to drag yourself out of bed. But when a certain heavy and very much asleep Starship Captain is blocking your way, there aren't many options left.Clearly, this whole ordeal must be his fault.  Is not related to any of the other works in this series.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i know, i know, Jim is not a womanizer anymore in Beyond. but... *imagine*
> 
> ..........is "aliens made me do it" a suitable excuse?

The streaks of the artificial sunlight of Yorktown fall across your face, and you groan as you try to drag yourself out of bed. But when a certain heavy and very much asleep Starship Captain is blocking your way, there aren't many options left but to lay back and ponder the meaning of life.

Clearly, this whole ordeal must be his fault. And he's so heavy!

It must be only a great deal of coincidence that this has happened, really. And in your defence, the entire thing is his fault, James T. Kirk's. It must be.

 

It all started with shore leave in Yorktown.

 

"...and a beer" you smiled at the bartender, finishing your order.

"Great deal of alcohol for one girl" a man turned around, no doubt to check you out, and when you looked up to meet his eyes defiantly, you met Starship Captain James Tiberius Kirk's blue irises.

"Do you harass every girl who comes up to order" you asked, "...Captain?" You added, and really, he must have, if the look that ran across his face was anything to go by.

"Nah, just the pretty ones" he smiled a dainty smile, and leant onto the bar, nodding to the bartender for another drink. "And I'm no Captain tonight" he inclined his head a bit, his smile turning suggestive.

"What makes you even think I'm alone?"

"I see no other pretty girls in Starfleet uniforms" and he had the audacity to wink!

And he had the gall to laugh it off when you leveled him a cold glance and left him there with his drinks, because you were with your friends, thank you very much.

And really,  the only reason for the uniform was that they'd dragged you out there without a word, not even letting you change. 'Missed you' apparently just didn't cut it. And neither did 'I only need ten minutes to put on civilian clothes'. Well.

There are a few more flashes of dances, of yellow uniforms, of a dusting of freckles on the perfect curve of shoulders, breathy, teethy kisses. There are also flashes of skin sliding against skin, hands cupping breasts and lips sucking at collarbones, there is a remembered feeling of wet, hot, unforgiving need, there is a picture of him, arching up, his hands placed onto your hips, and there is blinding bliss behind closed eyelids.

And in between those two sequences, absolute darkness.

You surely can't have gotten blackout drunk last night, can you?

No.

You try to work your brain a bit more, to milk it for more details, but the effort rewards you with only a headache, and that's about it - and it certainly doesn't explain why or how you ended up in his bed naked. Because this isn't yours, if the all-around mess and the yellow shirts scattered everywhere in the room are anything to go by. 

And there's only so much times you can try to convince yourself that it's his fault - waking up naked, with your panties thrown across the room indicates at least some level of consent.

You poke him in the ribs. Nothing. Even the faint snoring continues.

Poke. Snoring.

And so - having not found the meaning of life yet -, you all but club him on the head, and indeed he does wake, falling out of the bed with little grace and an undignified yelp.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Morning, sunshine" you smile, maybe even gloat a little. But Jim Kirk just grumbles, and gets comfortable on the floor.

You end up making coffee - now that you were finally able to get out of bed and pull on some clothes randomly -, and the scent of it manages to wake him enough to crack one eye open and sniff.

"Is that coffee?" You hear, in a somewhat muffled tone, and a few minutes later he shuffles into the small kitchenette, now dressed in a pair of boxers and a threadbare t-shirt that has probably more holes than a regular cheese grater. And then, before you can blink, he's shoving ungodly amounts of sugar into his cup, filling it with coffee and milk, and he's off, sitting back onto the bed, pooling all the covers around himself.

After finishing your coffee, and after completing a few rounds of awful small talk, you manage to pull on all of your clothes - and all on the right body parts, too. You step outside his temporary quarters, and he's seeing you out, stopping at the door to talk through the mandatory lines of thank you, I enjoyed, take care.

"So, where are you headed this morning?" He asks, as if he wanted take you out to brunch and then a movie.

You sigh. "Back to my ship."

"No way! My leave ends today, too!" He feings a lot more enthusiasm than he is feeling, but his eyes are warm enough that you can't help but laugh.

"I'll accompany you, then" he says after a short pause. He's nothing if not a gentleman, after all. Only problem is that he's still in his boxers and threadbare tee.

You sigh and lean into the doorframe, arms crossed in front of your chest, as you watch him fall over while trying to maneuver himself into his uniform, failing miserably.

It's not a very long walk to the docks, though, and much of it is spent in silence.

"Which ship do you serve on, again?" He asks when you stop at the airlock of the docks. He nods at someone who's nodding a 'Captain' at him and looks back at you.

"The USS Enterprise, sir."

All of Jim's blood rushes out of his face at once. He clears his throat, and the two of you continue your wait for the authorization process.

And really, if there are a few awkward turbolift rides or a few more inexplicable turbolift malfunctions after that, no one says anything, and gossip doesn't quite get around to the bridge or to the medbay.

Which is, actually, a streak of rare luck on the Enterprise. 

**Author's Note:**

> guys, guys, i swear that the _Still Deadly_ sequel is comin' up. i have it (sort of) under control. please. sorry?  <3


End file.
